Scouts Out: Books One and Two Read online

  His company had been sent to Star’s End to provide counter-insurgency training for the planetary militia. They had a small but growing problem with guerillas, especially on the west side of the only inhabited continent on Star’s End. It just happened the government-owned diamond mines were within their zone of operations.

  “You’ve been quiet, Lieutenant,” said the diminutive woman next to him.

  Stanton banished his dark thoughts and flashed a smile. “Actually, Ma’am, I’m overwhelmed by all the wealth I’ve seen.”

  Her eyes fastened on his. “It was impressive, seeing Star diamonds bundled up so casually. Please, call me Frances.”

  His claustrophobia was pushed back while he focused on the Right Honorable Frances Torrington, the Planetary Governor’s representative. Her luminous eyes invited attention when she crossed her arms, drawing notice to her cleavage.

  “Why thank you, Ma-Frances. Call me Jerry. You’ve made this particular guard detail most pleasant.” He stood straighter.

  “How diplomatic, Jerry,” she purred, moving closer.

  Stanton smiled down at her from his two meter height, and felt pleasurable stirrings as he prepared to surround and conquer.

  A whispery voice in his ear brought him alert. “Lieutenant, we got a situation.”

  “What is it, Platoon Sergeant?”

  “I sent a three-man patrol out t’ sweep the area. They’ve run across signs of unwanted visitors. At least company strength.”

  Stanton tensed. He needed to be on the surface, with the rest of the platoon. “Alert the reaction force to head our way. Let me know their ETA soon as you have it.” He raised his hand to quiet murmured questions from the others in the elevator with him.

  “Already done, sir. ETA twenty minutes. Wait—hold one.”

  Stanton’s stomach clenched. A packed elevator wasn’t the place to show nerves.

  “Sir, the patrol ran across resistance. We hear what sounds like a fire fight. Trying t’ raise ’em on the radio.”

  He pictured the compound layout and surrounding area. A circular, six foot cinder block wall existed mainly to keep out wildlife and curious visitors. Several one and two-story buildings abutted the wall and provided a limited view around the perimeter. A road from the south entered through the main gates. The remainder was evergreen forest interspersed with one-story houses. Not the best fields of fire.

  The elevator sighed to a stop, doors sliding open. Stanton sprinted toward the main gates. His men were finding niches around the compound’s wall while he climbed to the second floor of a structure next to the gates. He focused on the task at hand, all doubts and worries falling away.

  Platoon Sergeant Nance trotted up the stairs as the gates swung shut. “Enemy overran our patrol, sir. Didn’t even stop t’ finish ’em off. One dead, two wounded. They saw heavy machine guns and automatic weapons.”

  Stanton checked the perimeter. “Which way they moving?”

  “They split in two groups. One’s headed our way, the other’s lagging behind. Maybe a hundred hostiles total.”

  “Get a fire team over to the elevator,” Stanton ordered. “Take the civilians down to the bottom of the shaft, and keep them there until we give the all clear.” God, what a time to have a group of VIPs visit. He began to sweat harder.

  “Wilco,” Nance said. He whispered into his helmet comm.

  Stanton shook his head after a quick glance out the second story window. The forest was too close for his liking. He wished they were nearer the small airport two kilometers away, where a company of local militia provided 24-hour security to a storage vault for diamonds awaiting shipment. Shapes flitted between tree trunks flanking both sides of the road.

  “Heads up, here they come,” he warned. “Squad leaders, get a count. Let me know what we’re up against.”

  Seconds later, light probing fire started along the southern edge of the perimeter. Camouflaged shapes filtered closer, going to ground among the outlying buildings seventy meters away.

  “Not sure yet. Doesn’t look to be as many as anticipated, sir,” Nance said.

  Stanton kneeled behind the sandbags his unit had stacked around the window. The reaction force had to reach surface from the destroyer Marston, which was in low orbit. The earliest he could expect reinforcements would be fifteen minutes.

  “We’ve got to hold them. No one gets to the mine, that’s where the civilians are,” he said over the all hands frequency. That was a large order, since his platoon had to defend a roughly circular perimeter a hundred meters in diameter. Spread them much too thin.

  A stuttering roar began as the guerillas opened up with automatic weapons. His men only had semi-automatic Mark 10’s, same as the planetary militia. Still, they might be able to slow them long enough. He was surprised at the enemy’s rapid movement into position. These insurgents were not only well armed, but well trained.

  Another thought struck him. There was only enough firepower for a couple of squads. And they weren’t advancing. Instead, they were holding the security platoon in place. Automatic fire swept his position, forced him to drop behind the casement. He low crawled to the next window and returned fire. With a hundred rounds of eight millimeter caseless per clip and each soldier outfitted with five clips, he and his men put out a respectable amount of firepower themselves.

  A slug ricocheted off his helmet with a deafening Pong. He pulled back, but not before a bullet tore a furrow of skin off his shoulder, making him violently flinch. He risked another peek. Alarm bells rang in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t pin down why.

  Nance came up the stairs. “We got three casualties, sir. Nothing serious. The bandits are holding in place. Orders?”

  “If there’s a company-sized unit out there, why only harassing fire?” Stanton asked. “Something smells, Sergeant.”

  Nance shrugged. “You’re right, Lieutenant. Guess we should count our blessings, though.”

  Stanton risked another glance over the wall. “Tell the squad leaders to keep an eye out. Anything suspicious, let me know ASAP.”

  “Oh, damn,” he breathed in sudden realization. “Sergeant, were you able to get the commo frequency from the security company at the airport?”

  “No, sir. Said we didn’t have a need t’ know. Their commander’s paranoid about security.”

  The sounds of firing dropped off, until down to an occasional round. He heard the distant sound of gunfire and what sounded like explosions. After several minutes, the noise of combat peaked, and died away.

  A low, rumbling shock wave passed over them. The Vault. Five diamond mines kept the fruits of their labors in that chamber. At any given time, there were a billion credits worth of diamonds, to include a respectable number of Star diamonds. Trust the bad guys to hit something economically critical to the planetary government.

  “Sergeant, send a patrol to sweep our perimeter. Keep alert for snipers or an ambush. See if they left any wounded or dead. I’ll be with the civilians.”

  Nance gestured at him. “You need t’ get yourself patched up, sir.”

  Stanton glanced at his right shoulder. Blood soaked through his fatigues. “You’re right. Might scare the civvies. Send the medic over after he’s done with our wounded.”

  * * *

  An hour later he located the Platoon Sergeant, a hundred meters from the compound.

  Nance straightened. “Glad you’re here, Lieutenant. I would’ve radioed, but didn’t think you want this t’ become general knowledge.” He pulled a blanket from one of three bodies laid out in a row. The camouflage fatigues worn by the corpse were normal looking, except for the double thunderbolt and hammer design on the left breast pocket. Stanton knelt down for a closer look.

  “Find anything on him?”

  “Yes, sir. Seems he’s an officer of sorts. But not for the local guerillas.” He held out a packet of papers. “This report’s written in Deutsch. I think we got more than insurgency problems.”

  Lieutenant Stanton ex
haled. “There goes the neighborhood.”

  PLANET ALAMO, FORT WILLIAM HENRY (Day -2):

  The sun threatened to break over the horizon when Recon Platoon, also called Long Range Scouts (LRS), trotted through Fort Henry’s main gate. Ten kilometer runs before breakfast twice a week was fast becoming a tradition since Platoon Sergeant Boudreau had arrived six months ago.

  Unlike other military units, Recon didn’t march in step, count cadence, or give verbal commands while on the move. It was done by hand and arm signals. In silence, the platoon slowed to a walk, and without stopping broke off by squads to their barracks.

  “Squad Leaders, meet me 15 minutes after chow,” Boudreau called to their backs. This was enough of a difference from normal routine to earn some curious looks. He strode to the Headquarters Company orderly room to pick up the warning order he’d been informed about just before their run by Lieutenant Kwan, his platoon leader. Looking in the mirror this morning had been a mistake. Two more grey hairs. Next year he was due for his first rejuve treatment. Hopefully he didn’t have a head of snow by that time.

  An hour and fifteen minutes later, on the dot, there was a knock at his office door. “In,” he called.

  The four squad leaders entered. “Take a load off, fellas. I’ve got some interesting news for you.”

  They made themselves comfortable as anyone could on military chairs and furniture. Boudreau put four cigars on his desk top.

  “A mission,” crowed Staff Sergeant Williams, first squad leader. “A real, honest-to-God mission. Who gets it? All of us?” Williams, oldest squad leader in the Regiment, always thirsted for more action. Boudreau thought that was why he hadn’t retired last year when he became eligible.

  “I guess you could say yes and no.”

  Staff Sergeant Rice, second squad leader, shifted uncomfortably. “C’mon, Platoon Sergeant, what we gotta do? Arm wrestle you for the information? Bribe you?”

  “Bribery would be nice,” Boudreau said. “But we’ll probably all be on this one. At least one squad for sure.” He looked at all of them. “The Alliance has tried to pull a fast one on Star’s End. Two reinforced battalions will be sent ASAP to join up with Alpha Company of First Battalion. They were there on a training mission when this came up. Us? Well, it seems our illustrious Colonel, Mad Mike, has put in a special request for one LRS squad to leave ahead of the rest, and pull a deep cover recon. Third squad, to be exact.”

  Staff Sergeant Frank “Franny” Smith shook his head. “Don’t tell me. He’s still got a case of the jaws about that little incident Pointy and Irish were involved in a couple months ago, so he wants my squad to go out and play hero.”

  “Yeah, he seems to think if anyone can pull off what he wants done, it has to be guys with brass balls like your rat pack is supposed to have.” Boudreau leaned forward, an evil smile playing on his face. “And I happen to think he’s right on this one. We all know Brita has a pair. Just weren’t sure about the rest of you.”

  Franny smiled thinly and eyed him with disdain. “Then it’s time you found out, isn’t it? Your room or mine?”

  Boudreau gave him a disgusted look. Bastard was too fast on the uptake. One of these days, he’d get a zinger in on him. Back to business. “The rest of you need to put everyone on twenty-four hour alert, ready to move out with two hours notice. No leaves, no passes until we hear differently. I’ll be getting a complete briefing this afternoon. All of you except third squad will attend an eighteen hundred all-hands briefing tonight. Any questions? OK, move out. Franny, stick around for your brief.”

  Later that afternoon Franny walked into the back of the classroom where his squad worked on Alliance weapons and how to use them. Since everyone wore a training simulation helmet, it was eerily quiet. For those wearing helmets, it was a different story. You were able to not only see a 40 mm grenade launcher, you could use it.

  After a few minutes he strolled to the front and flipped the master switch, disconnecting them. Everyone took the sims off, a slightly disoriented look being the norm.

  “Listen up, people. Mission brief.” Everyone’s attention focused on him at this announcement. “we’ve been selected for what anyone else would consider a shitty detail. Mad Mike specifically requested third squad—and I say request, since he wants volunteers only—to ship out for a planet named Star’s End, and do some advance scouting. It seems insurgents on that particular planet have gotten help from the Alliance. Anyone not want to volunteer?” No one raised their hand. “Good. I was getting a little tired of the easy life, anyway.”

  Sergeant Brita Weiss, Alpha fire team leader half-lifted her hand. “Rim worlds have that problem all the time, Staff. What’s different about this one?” She was the only female in the squad, and was nicknamed Valkyrie due to her physical abilities. It also helped she was blonde and just under two meters in height.

  “Usually the Alliance only sells or provides weapons and technology to groups like this. The difference on this planet is they seem to’ve sent troops in, too.”

  Sergeant Brandon “Brandy” Roosevelt, Bravo fire team leader, leaned back in his chair so far he almost tipped over. “Say, isn’t that the place they get some kinda expensive jewelry from? Oh, and they grow awesome communications crystals, too.”

  Smith smiled tightly. “You’ll get the briefing cubes once we’re in space. It’s a two week ride there. In the meantime, go to stores and draw brand new gear. All the way from underwear to the properly coded active camouflage. We’ll pack light on our weaponry. This is mostly sneak-and-peek until the rest of the force catches up with us. Needlers for all, two Webley sniper rifles per fire team.” He crossed his arms as he propped against the wall.

  “We’re mainly going in for information gathering. Satellite recon hasn’t been able to spot anything. That either means they’re well dug in, have excellent electronic countermeasures, or both. We’ll identify targets, numbers of bad guys, where and how many Alliance soldiers are hanging around, and the quality of their weapons.” He looked around the room and smiled, this time in a more relaxed manner.

  “The Platoon Sergeant said no leaves or passes, but he didn’t say anything about a farewell party in the barracks. Once you’ve drawn all your gear, you’ll have the rest of the night to do what you want. Long as it’s on base, and no one’s killed. Inspection at 0900 tomorrow. Now move out.”

  * * *

  By 2200, the party in the squad bay was winding down. Most of the platoon started there, but soon drifted away and left fourth squad to itself. The squad had divided itself between two tables, with Weiss’ fire team at one and Roosevelt’s at the other. A nearly depleted keg of beer and several wine bottles, mostly empty, were their only company.

  Brita finished her glass of wine and surveyed the other four at the table. Almost time to break this up. Two of her charges were semi-conscious, while Irish and Pointy stared owlishly into their glasses between drinks.

  “You found a bug in your beer, Irish?” she asked.

  “No, Sarge.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Just thinking about home. Haven’t done that in quite a while. Makes me nervous.” He scratched his brown mop of inch-long hair. Made it look wilder than before.

  “You’re from Eire, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, and before you ask, my family was on the wrong side politically in the last ruckus we had there.” He touched a faint scar that ran from the left corner of his mouth in a curlique up towards his eye.

  Brita frowned in thought. “That little ruckus was a major uprising, wasn’t it? Something between the Royalists and Legislaturalists?”

  Ian gave a humorless smile. “Bingo. My parents felt that since they’d given their oath to the King, it meant something. Even after the Legislaturists took over. We had everything confiscated. Land, house, bank accounts, the works.” He drained his glass.

  “My folks had just enough money laid by to ship me off to relatives on New Britain. Wasn’t much in the way of work for displaced people like me, so it was eit
her the military or some grunt work, probably in construction. Couldn’t afford to go to the University. So I stayed with my aunt and uncle ’til I was old enough to enlist.”

  “Ah. So you’re one of the Wild Geese.”

  “You’ve heard of us, then?” Ian asked. “I’ll bet there were over a hundred thousand young men and women sent off-world after the last troubles. Lot of us found it to our liking to join the military.” He stepped over to the keg and filled his glass. “Most went to planetary militias around the Confederation.”

  “But some found the Orion Army,” Brita said. “Where’d the term ‘Wild Geese’ come from?”

  “Way back before humans left Terra, England invaded Ireland. Had such a hard time keeping them conquered that they put the screws to anyone living there. In a lot of cases, the young men had to leave Ireland or die. Most of them joined armies around the world, and their fellow Irishmen began calling them Wild Geese. Mercenary soldiers would be a better description.”

  Brita looked around for another bottle of wine. Pointy stirred himself, and slid a nearly full one down the table her way. “Thanks. Pointy, how about you? I know you went through boot camp and sniper school with Irish, but you haven’t said much about your life before that.”

  Pointy looked embarrassed. “To tell you the truth, I was given a choice. Prison or the Army.”

  Brita smiled. “I tend to hear that line from half the soldiers we get.”

  Pointy squirmed in discomfort, and rubbed his nose. “It wasn’t a big thing. My father was an attache’ to Grimswold when I happened to get into, ah, my little difficulty. Seems the floater my girlfriend and I borrowed wasn’t her father’s like she told me. That, on top of the fact I was twenty-one and considered an adult, meant her father didn’t much appreciate me when his sixteen-year-old daughter told him she wasn’t a virgin any more. So I was charged with statutory rape along with car theft. My old man said it would do me good to suffer the consequences of my actions. I felt six years in the Army was better than that.”